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Winter Sports 

Huntington Lake 

Lod^e 




Geof^ge Wharton^ James 



WINTER SPORTS at 

HUNTINGTON LAKE LODGE 

in the HIGH SIERRAS 

The Story of tKe First Annual Ice and Snow Carnival 

of the Commercial Club of Fresno 

California 

Si; GEORGE WHARTON JAMES 




Pasadena, California 

THE RADIANT LIFE PRESS 
1Q16 






Copyright 1916 

by 

EDITH E. FARNSWORTH 



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'"CI.A431078 
MAY 16 1916 



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To tKe party of sixty-five members 
of tKe 

COMMERCIAL CLUB OF FRESNO 

a party without a groucK, or a kicker 

■who made 

Tke First Annual Ice and SnovJ Carnival 

at 

Huntington Lake 

the great success it M?as 

these pages are cordially dedicated 

bi) fheir guest and friend 

George Wharton James. 



List of Part}? 



The Boosters of the Fresno Commercial Club 
and their guests, who made up the party for the 
First Annual Winter Carnival at Huntington Lake 
Lodge : 



FROM FRESNO 

Anderson, Mr. and Mrs. B. M. 

Anderson, Elmer A. 

Bergh, S. W. 

Hopkins, Dr. and Mrs. E. L. 

Hopkins, Miss Evelyn 

Buswell, J. M. 

Chamberlain, Mrs. H. I. 

Cooper, N. Ray 

Compton, W. I. 

Clausen, Walter Berten 

Einstein, Mrs. Louis 

Einstein, Miss Elsa 

Einstein, Lesley 

Einstein, Edwin 

Epstein, Mr. and Mrs. Ben 

Frutiger, Mrs. W. A. 

Goodman, Mr. and Mrs. J. B. 

Goodman, Miss Ruth 

Hasselbach, Mr. and Mrs. A. 

Jones, Hayden 

Kutner, Mr. and Mrs. Louis 

Laval, C. C. 

Laval, Miss Lorraine 

Leyden, E. A. 

Matlock, Mr. and Mrs. W. L. 

Meisenheimer, Miss B. 

Miller, Miss Alice 

Miller, Miss Margaret 

Mitchell, Mr. and Mrs. W. D. 

Nicholson, A. 

Perraud, L. 

Potter, Craig H. 

Stewart, Mr. and Mrs. C. W. 

Sunderland, Miss Netta 

Swift, Miss Gertrude 



Schubert, Mr. and Mrs. A. W. 

Tilton, Harold 

Thrane, Mr. and Mrs. R. 

Walcott, Bert 

Waterman, Mr. and Mrs. G. S. 

Waterman, Miss Katharine 

Waterman, Mr. and Mrs. J. G. 

and son 
Watson, G. Gaylord 
Winning, Dr. and Mrs. W. P. 

and son 

FROM SELMA 
Nash, Mr. and Mrs. W. G. 
Scott, Mrs. L. D. 
Scott, Miss Netta 
Wright, Mr. and Mrs. F. B. 

FROM MERCED 
Smith, Dr. and Mrs. J. C. 
Smith, Mr. and Mrs. E. E. 

FROM CASCADA 
Lawton, Mr. and Mrs. R. B. 
Bemis, Dr. 

FROM SAN FRANCISCO 
Scott, J. J. 

FROM LOS ANGELES 
Munger, D. A. 

FROM PASADENA 
James, George Wharton 

FROM COALING A 
Peeler, Col. R. L. 

FROM OAKLAND 
Bundy, Miss M. 



SNOW CARNIVAL COMMITTEE 

J. M. Buswell, Chairman 
F. E. Kidder L. W. Wilson 



FOREWORD 

FOR centuries snow and rain have fallen on the 
High Sierras of California making the rills, 
brooklets, streams and rivers that, through- 
out the year, pour forth their vivifying waters into 
the heart of the thirsty valleys which lie toward the 
Western Sea. Indians have roamed over these 
High Sierras, have fished and bathed in these 
waters, and there their usefulness seems to have 
ended. But the resistless Anglo-Saxon invaded the 
scene, first as trapper, then as miner, cattle-man, 
lumberman, fisherman, lover of majestic scenery, 
and finally as conservator of the mountain's natural 
resources. Among other of these resources the 
greatest was found to be the potentialities of the 
waters for the development of electric energy. In 
the far-away cities of the valleys, and even of regions 
across other ranges of mountains were cities of rest- 
less, energetic peoples demanding vast supplies of 
electricity for lighting and heating their homes, 
streets, stores, and markets, for driving their street- 
cars, automobiles, machines and power plants. 

Modern Science saw in the Sierran streams the 
means of supplying these demands, hence it linked 
hands with Capital to wrest from these snow-born 
waters the electrical energy they contained. Roads 
were engineered and built into the mountains, sites 
for the erection of gigantic dams were chosen which 
would impound great masses of these hitherto vag- 
rant waters and thus create beautiful lakes in the 
midst of scenic glories and wonders unsurpassed on 
the face of the earth. Busy men came and blasted 
great masses of granite from quarries created 



by the Eternal; then the roads were lined with steel 
— man's track for the iron horse, — and soon loco- 
motives and trains of cars were carrying men and 
supplies for the more rapid prosecution of the work 
in these once unknown mountain recesses. Like 
magic the dams came into existence. Modern Alad- 
dins flashed their lamps and buildings equivalent to 
the palaces and temples of antiquity sprang up, in 
which hydro-electric power-plants were stored; a 
large lake five miles long and a mile broad ap- 
peared; tons of steel for towers, and tons of 
steel-cored aluminum cable for transmission lines 
were supplied to the hordes of busy men, 
who like never-resting ants cut wide pathways 
through the trees, up and down canyons and ravines 
that hitherto had felt only the tread of the foot of 
panther, lynx, coyote or Indian. Cement bases for 
great towers were laid; the steel beams arose in air; 
the lines of cable were stretched up, down, across, 
ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred, two hundred and 
fifty miles to far-away Los Angeles, the growing 
metropolis of California of the South. In the mean- 
time an 84-inch pipe, tapering down to 24 inches, 
built to resist nine hundred pounds pressure, was 
laid, reaching from the lake — which had already 
been named after the chief capitalist Interested in 
the project, Huntington Lake — twenty-one hundred 
and three feet below to where the power-house 
stood. Here were placed on solid granite founda- 
tions four water-wheels, directly connected with 
two generators of 42,500 horsepower. 

When all was ready it remained to see If Nature 
and Science had so far worked together that when 
the water was allowed to come dashing down the 
pipe upon the great wheels, they would generate the 
power and transmit it to the eagerly awaiting sta- 
tions In far-away Los Angeles. Many Innovations 
had been ventured upon; great Interests were at 
stake; Science and Commerce alike waited the fate- 
ful moment with profound intentness. 







a°. 




The signal was given, the waters flowed, the 
wheels moved, the dynamos began to hum, the meters 
began to show the development of power, and, 
more wonderful than the magic of the past, in a few 
moments, Los Angeles felt the thrill at the Sierra's 
heart and began to blaze and burn and throb with 
the transmitted energy. The miraculous was ac- 
complished, and at once took its place as another 
step in the upward climb of man to the stars. 

Now entered another element upon the scene. 
The newly-created Lake had given an added de- 
light, charm and beauty to the solemn and inspiring 
majesty of gigantic and snow-clad mountain peaks, 
the dignity of heaven-aspiring trees, and the dainty 
beauty of shrubs and flowers. Why not make it 
possible for the business-weary men and women of 
the cities of the plains to come hitherward and enjoy 
all that Nature could here confer upon them. With 
these men to decide is to accomplish, and in due 
time Huntington Lake Lodge, a beautiful, artistic, 
appropriate and commodious modern hotel sprang 
into being under the pines, immediately overlooking 
the Lake. It was opened July 4, 1915, and during 
its first summer and fall season many guests came 
to enjoy its delightful hospitality. But when win- 
ter came — stern winter, with its frost and snow, its 
storms and cold, the peoples of the valley fled to 
their homes. For awhile it seemed that this hospit- 
able Lodge would be deserted during the winter 
months. Then people began to take fresh counsel. 
Elsewhere in the world men and women, young men 
and maidens found health, enjoyment, delight, 
vigor and new life in the snow. Why not here? 
These valleys were valleys of almost perpetual 
summer. Here, close at hand, beneficient Nature 
invited to the joys and blessings of winter. She 
said: "Come to my snow-clad mountains, my 
snow-laden trees, my snow-covered slopes. Come 
to my winter play-ground. Come and be children 
again, as you snow-ball each other, slide down my 



mountain sides, skate over my lakes, walk in your 
snow-shoes and glide on your skis over my moun- 
tain snow-fields. Come, and I will renew your 
youth and send you back to your valley occupations 
like giants refreshed with new wine." 

The pages that follow record the story of the 
first party to accept this invitation. It was one of 
the perfect parties that show how happy man can 
be with his brother when he desires to be. It was a 
joyous and glorious contrast to the awful hell of 
fierce war raging on the other side of the earth, for 
while German and English, Austrian and French, 
Pole and Slav were to be found in the party, there 
were no other notes heard than those of kindness, of 
helpfulness, of brotherliness, of love. Hence it has 
been a joy to place on record the story of those do- 
ings in which I was privileged to share. 




Cascada, February 22, 1916. 



M 



CHAPTER I 

THE MOUNTAINS OF THE SAN JOAQUIN 

OUNTAINS vary as much as men. Some 
are easy to reach, easily conquered, easily 
understood, because they have easy ap- 
proach, no steep ascents to climb, no fearfully pre- 
cipitous gorges to cross, no raging torrents to ford, 
no boulder-strewn passages to assay, no snow-clad 
slopes to overcome, no dense undergrowth to cut 
through. Others possess one or all of the qualities 
or difficulties enumerated, with additional obstacles 
of their own, which make their ascent achievements 
of which men justifiably are proud. It Is one of the 
glories of this century that men have been more 
daring and successful than ever In scaling mountain 
summits. Mountain climbers have ascended prac- 
tically all the hitherto unknown peaks, and a woman, 
Miss Annie Peck, has added her achievement as one 
of the greatest of them all. 

The California Sierra Nevadas are not as high 
and Imposing as the Andes or the Himalayas, but 
they are as distinctive, varied, wonderful, and In- 
teresting. From Mt. Shasta In the north, to Mt. 
Whitney In the south, they set forth variances that, 
to those familiar with them, make them seem as 
though the different areas could not belong to the 
same range. There Is as much difference between 
the Tahoe region, with Its Innumerable glacial lakes, 
and the Shasta region, with Its fierce lava-flows, as 
there Is between the Mt. Whitney region, or the 
Mono_ region, and that of the San Joaquin. Kern 
and Kings Rivers Canyons are wild, rugged gorges, 

[1] 



but they are of an entirely different character from 
the Yosemite or the Hetch-Hetchy. While there 
are characteristics in our Sierras that are similar 
throughout, these differentiations are what make 
each region so attractive in its individual person- 
ality. 

Then, too, the motives that lead men to a con- 
quering of mountain areas are as varied as are the 
mountains themselves. Wherever timber is of reas- 
onably easy access that in itself is a lure, as is shown 
in the rapid denudation of the forests around Lake 
Tahoe, for the supplying of the timber-needs of the 
Virginia City and other mines, in Nevada; in the 
vast lumbering interests now going on around Mt. 
Shasta and elsewhere in the Sierras. On the other 
hand, it was its purely scenic features that were the 
chief and first inducements to the opening up of 
roads into the Yosemite Valley. The trapping of 
fur-bearing animals; mining; hunting; sheep-herd- 
ing; cattle-raising; the impounding of mountain- 
streams for irrigation purposes — these have taken 
men in greater or lesser numbers into the moun- 
tains. But it is only recently, since the modern 
developments of electricity, that water, for the gen- 
eration of electric power, has been the lure to lead 
men to study every mountain gorge, every valley, 
every detail of watershed, and to seek out the most 
favorable locations for the establishment of dams, 
reservoirs, and power-houses. 

It Is to this latter feature that we owe the open- 
ing up of the Sierras in the region of the San Joa- 
quin River, as the next chapter will show. 

The railway — first the Southern Pacific from 
Fresno, in the heart of the San Joaquin Valley, to 
El Prado, and then the San Joaquin and Eastern, 
curving and climbing fifty-six miles to Cascada — 
deposits you in the very heart of the range. For 
miles one rides in sight of the San Joaquin River, 
with its wide basin-like slopes. In one magnificent 
[2] 



stretch It is shut in by the granite walls of its Grand 
Canyon. Sublimity and grandeur, with picturesque- 
ness and wide expanse, greet the eye on every hand, 
but, from the first glimpse, until one is close at hand 
to them, the towering and snow-covered peaks of 
the High Sierras attract the attention. When one 
reaches the end of the railway at Cascada he looks 
back over the winding way he has come and then 
turns to view the great power-house, from which 
comes the hum and whir of the giant water-wheels 
and motors; sees the incline cable railway rising 
two thousand feet in direct ascent to six thousand 
feet of length, and up which all the material for 
the construction of the concrete dams was raised; 
and then the great steel pipe — penstock they call it 
— down which the water flows from the lake above 
to make the water-wheels and motors hum. 

Towering over all, and dominating the scene, is 
a majestic mass of granite, some eighteen hundred 
feet high, its crown smoothed and shaped by the 
overflowing glaciers of a long-past age, reminding 
one somewhat of the glacier-polished towers of the 
Yosemite. This is named the Kerckhoff Dome, 
after one of the associates of Mr. Huntington, in 
Los Angeles. 

The final touch is given by the little settlement of 
Cascada, where the various employees of the power 
plant have their homes, with accompanying store, 
hotel, stables, school, etc. This is also a well- 
known and popular starting-point for the summer 
tramper in the mountains, hundreds of people com- 
ing up from the valley to share its hospitality. 

But we are desirous of reaching Huntington Lake 
and the commodious Lodge that stands upon its 
shore two thousand feet above, so, taking stage, 
automobile, or Slerra-plane — according to the sea- 
son — we speedily find ourselves winding along over 
the four miles of well-engineered road that finally 
brings us to the place of our heart's desire. Here, 

[3] 



we wake up to a full realization of the glories of 
the High Sierras. 

At our feet lies the sparkling clear water of 
Huntington Lake, made by damming the gorge 
down which the mountain stream used to dash in 
unrestrained exuberance. Nearly five miles long 
and from a half to a full mile wide, it is one of the 
crystal gems of the Sierras. Towering above it, to 
the northeast, is the long, winding, jagged ridge of 
Kaiser Crest, varying in height from 9,000 to 
10,300 feet, where snow generally may be found a 
large part of the year. What a glorious galaxy of 
majestic peaks surrounds us. Shut-eye (8,358 feet), 
and Little Shut-eye (8,353 feet), peaks that recall 
Indian legends, are to the northwest, while Red 
Mountain, Bear Butte, Chinese Peak, Tamarack 
Mountain, are all close at hand. 

Climb a little, to where, on Kaiser Crest, a clear 
outlook is obtained in every direction, and then peak 
after peak comes into view. Yonder to the north- 
east are Pincushion Peak (9,817 feet), Sharktooth 
Peak (11,630 feet), and Double Peak (10,637 
feet), all huddled together, with Graveyard Peak 
(11,584 feet), hustling them a trifle to the south- 
east, and the ridge of the Silver Divide, with its 
chief Silver Peak (11,497 feet), leading the eye 
on to the mountains of the Big Four — the men of 
power and genius, of indomitable will and energy, 
who constructed the Central Pacific Railway over 
the Sierras — Mt. Huntington (12,393 feet), Mt. 
Crocker (12,448 feet), Mt. Stanford (12,826 feet), 
and Mt. Hopkins (12,300 feet). Almost hiding 
Mts. Crocker and Stanford is the Red and White 
Mountain (12,646 feet), while beyond, just on the 
borders of Mono and Inyo Counties, is an unnamed 
peak towering 11,888 feet into the Sierran blue, 
and still another, nearly as high (11,752 feet) a 
little to the north. 

Ranging southward, there come in succession Vol- 
[4f 



canlcKnob (11,153 feet), Mt. Mills (13,352 feet), 
Mt. Morgan (13,739 feet), Mt. Abbott (13,736 
feet), Mt. Dade (13,635 feet), Mt. Gabb (13,701 
feet), Mt. Hilgard (13,351 feet), and Bear Creek 
Spine (13,702 feet), each one a monarch in its own 
power and dominating personality. Yet even this 
sublime group does not close the list, for nearer to 
us, a little southward, are Mt. Hooper (12,322 
feet), the Seven Gables, flanked by the Four Gables, 
the latter nearly 13,000 feet in height; Mt. Senger 
(12,253 feet), Turret Peak (12,060 feet), behind 
which is the striking north and south ridge of The 
Pinnacles (12,264 feet), while beyond them are 
Pilot Knob (12,237 feet), Mt. Humphreys (13,972 
feet) and Mt. Emerson (13,226 feet), with Pavilion 
Dome (11,365 feet), well towards the south. Here 
the Glacier Divide demands attention, and just 
below, one after another, the trained eye descerns 
Mt. Lamarck (13,202 feet), Mt. Wallace (13,701 
feet). Emerald Peak (12,517 feet). The Hermit 
(12,341 feet), Mt. Darwin (12,782 feet) , Mt. Spen- 
cer (12,428 feet), Mt. Haeckel (over 12,000 feet), 
Mt. McGee (12,966 feet), Mt. Huxley (13,124 
feet), Mt. Fiske, Mt. Powell and Mt. Thompson, 
all well up to the 13,000 feet mark. Even these do 
not complete the roster, for a little further to the 
south are Mt. Goddard (13,553 feet), Mt. Goode 
(13,312 feet), Langille Peak (11,981 feet), Black- 
cap Mt. (11,559 feet), Mt. Reinstein (12,595 
feet), Scylla (12,943 feet), and Charybdis (12,935 
feet). Peaks, with Finger Peak (12,401 feet). Blue 
Canyon Peak (11,956 feet), Mt. Woodworth 
(12,214 feet), and Devil's Crag (12,612 feet), 
clustered together, still further to the south and east. 

As one sees these snow-clad summits and the 
clouds trailing out In delicate loveliness, as banners 
of white light, from their stern solidity, or wreath- 
ing them in half-hiding, half-revealing veiling, he 

[5] 



can understand how they became to Joaquin Miller 
the monuments of the California pioneers: 

Worn victors, few and true, such clouds 
As track God's trailing garment's hem 
Where Shasta keeps shall be your shrouds, 
And ye shall pass the stars in them. 
Your tombs shall be while Time endures, 
Such hearts as only Truth secures ; 
Your everlasting monuments 
Sierra's snow-topt battle tents. 

And, to me, it is a soul-filling joy that man did 
not erect these monuments. They are the work of 
God, of Nature, of the great Creative Force, whose 
manifestations of power ever keep man's mentality 
engaged. It was appropriate that these sublime 
peaks — rather than any man made monuments — 
should be made to bear the names of those indus- 
trious mental geniuses whose gigantic intellects were 
devoted to a life-study of the handiworks of God, 
seeking to explain them to their less-endowed broth- 
ers. It was well that Huxley, Tyndall, Darwin, 
Spencer, Fiske, Powell and the rest should be 
recalled in this western land of striving for material 
things, in order that their glorious example should 
not be forgotten. 

Then, too, who that has a soaring spirit, an adven- 
turous soul, with strong physical body to match, does 
not feel the stirring to climb such alluring summits? 
Who would not rival the eagle and stand on the 
highest peaks, looking off into space, obtaining 
expansive views that the mediocre spirits of less 
ambitious bodies may never see? How one's heart 
thrills in reading Clarence King's "Ascent of Mt. 
Tyndall," in his Mountaineering in the Sierra Ne- 
vada, or John Muir's perilous climb up Mt. Ritter, 
given in his Mountains of California. And how 
one responds to the manliness these mountain heights 
seem !o bring out. King tells, in his "Descent of 
Mt. Tyndall," of a place where he and his com- 
[6] 



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On tJie Trail," Coing on a Camping-Out Trip near Huntington Lake 










Lumber Flume, Rounding the Cliffs of the San Joaquin Sierra-S 




A Successful Hunter in the San Joaquin Sierras 







"An Kxeiting Moment." Fishing in the San Joaquin Sierras 



panion, Cotter, came to an upward climb of forty 
feet of smooth granite "which lay between us and 
safety." Let me quote briefly: 

As we tied ourselves together, I told Cotter to hold him- 
self in readiness to jump down into one of the several crev- 
ices riven into the rock a few inches in case I fell, and started 
to climb up the wall, succeeding quite well for about twenty 
feet. About two feet above mj' hands was a crack, which, 
if my arms had been long enough to reach, would probably 
have led me to the very top; but I judged it beyond my 
powers, and, with great care, descended to the side of Cotter, 
who believed that his superior length of arm would enable 
him to make the reach. 

I planted myself against the rock, and he started cau- 
tiously up the wall. Looking down the glare front of ice, it 
was not pleasant to consider at what velocity a slip would 
send me to the bottom, or at what angle, and to what prob- 
able depth, I should be projected into the ice-water. Indeed, 
the idea of such a sudden bath was so annoying that I lifted 
my eyes toward my companion. He reached my farthest 
point without great difficulty, and made a bold spring for the 
crack, reaching it without an inch to spare, and holding on 
wholly with his fingers. He thus worked himself slowly 
along the crack toward the top, at last getting his arms over 
the brink, and gradually drawing his body up and out of 
sight. It was the most splendid piece of slow gymnastics I 
ever witnessed. For a moment he said nothing; but when 
I asked if he was all right cheerfully repeated, "All right." 
It was only a moment's work to send up the two knapsacks 
and barometer, and receive again my end of the lasso. As I 
tied it round my breast. Cotter said to me, in an easy, confi- 
dent tone, "Don't be afraid to bear your weight." I made 
up my mind, however, to make that climb without his aid, 
and husbanded my strength as I climbed from crack to crack. 
I got up without difficulty to my former point, rested there a 
moment, hanging solely by my hands, gathered every pound 
of strength and atom of will for the reach, then jerked 
myself upward with a swing, just getting the tips of my 
fingers into the crack. In an instant I had grasped it with 
my right hand also. I felt the sinews of my fingers relax 
a little, but the picture of the slope of ice and the blue lake 
far below affected me so stronglv that I redoubled my grip, 

[7] 



and climbed slowly along the crack until I reached the angle 
and got one arm over the edge as Cotter had done. As I 
rested my body upon the edge and looked up at Cotter, I 
saw that, instead of a level top, he was sitting upon a smooth 
roof-like slope, where the least pull would have dragged him 
over the brink. He had no brace for his feet, nor hold for 
his hands, but had seated himself calmly, with the rope tied 
around his breast, knowing that my only safety lay in being 
able to make the climb entirely unaided ; certain that the 
least waver in his tone would have disheartened me, and 
perhaps made it impossible. The shock I received on seeing 
this affected me for a moment, but not enough to throw me 
off my guard, and I climbed quickly over the edge. When 
we had walked back out of danger we sat down upon the 
granite for a rest. 

In all my experience of mountaineering I have never 
known an act of such real, profound courage as this of 
Cotter's. It is one thing, in a moment of excitement, to 
make a gallant leap, or hold one's nerves in the iron grasp of 
will, but to coolly seat one's self in the door of death, and 
silently listen for the fatal summons, and this all for a friend, 
— for he might easily have cast loose the lasso and saved 
himself, — requires as sublime a type of courage as I know. 

There ! Who can read that and not have his own 
heart nerved to a higher key of heroism? These 
soaring peaks constantly remind me of this and 
similar daring acts, and call me to deeds of which 
before I should have been Incapable. 

And these are the environment of Huntington 
Lake Lodge. Is man not fortunate that such a sub- 
lime playground has been made easily and readily 
accessible to him? Even though he has no desire 
to scale these peerless summits, they must have a 
potent and deep influence over him; no one can 
remain long In their noble presence unmoved and 
uninfluenced. Therefore they are true upllfters of 
humanity, pointers out of the higher way. 

From the slopes of mountains like these the San 

Joaquin River has Its origin. Glaciers, and beds of 

Ice and snow, loading the shoulders and flanks of 

granite peaks, pour their melting waters through a 

[8] 



thousand lesser channels, until the river is born. The 
San Joaquin has three distinct forks, known as the 
West, Middle and South forks, the latter being the 
longest and the most important. One of these, 
together with the headwaters of Owen's River, and 
important affluents of the Merced and Tuolumne, 
all have their rise within a few miles of Mt. Ritter, 
one of the giant Sierran family and from the summit 
of which marvellously expansive views may be ob- 
tained. These are described elsewhere, yet the 
visitor to Huntington Lake Lodge should never for- 
get that this, and all the peaks I have mentioned, are 
within comparatively easy reach. 

What a soul-stirring experience it is, after one has 
climbed, step by step, with or without such danger- 
ous and thrilling excitements as that quoted from 
Clarence King, to stand on one of these sentinels of 
our Golden State, and survey the landscape o'er. 
The first impression of one unused to such sights is 
of a bewilderment of the senses caused by the unex- 
ampled grandeur, striking sublimity, and illimitable 
expanse before him. His mind is baffled, confused, 
crowded. There is too much to see, and he is too 
unused to such a marvellous conglomeration of sub- 
limity and grandeur to be able to analyse and focal- 
ize. But after several such experiences, after he has 
learned to separate and differentiate between the 
peaks, to know the appearance of glaciers, and to see 
the sun-kissed fountains bubbling forth as if eager to 
form the rivers; when he can point out the upper 
water-courses, and even now and again discern the 
dashing waterfalls and cascades, and follow the 
streams down below the timber-line, in their tortu- 
ous and winding ways, to the far-away valley, little 
by little the eternal harmonies of the mountains steal 
into his soul. He sees their relation one to another 
— the barrier peaks, holding the moisture-laden 
clouds and demanding that they get rid of their 
burdens, either in gently-falling snow or pelting rain; 

[9] 



the great glacier beds accumulating during the cen- 
turies and holding the moisture, the wooing power 
of the sun, releasing the water drop by drop, in mil- 
lions of millions of drops, until drops become rills, 
and rills rivulets, rivulets grow into creeks, creeks 
into brooks, brooks into streams, and streams into 
rivers. These we can follow, part of the way with 
the eye, the rest of the way in imagination, through 
their wide watersheds, deep, rugged and rocky can- 
yon deeps, into the blue distance of the western 
valley, there to be distributed into irrigation canals, 
over thousands of acres, where vines, peaches, apri- 
cots, prunes, pears, pomegranates, oranges, lemons, 
grapefruit and a thousand and one varieties of fruit 
trees abound; where contented kine feed happily on 
lush grasses and rich alfalfa, and where contented 
men and women and happy children rejoice in the 
gifts of God in this highly favored land. Here and 
there, as at Huntington Lake, one sees where the 
water is diverted and used for awhile for other pur- 
poses, ere it is poured back again into its natural 
channel. On the wings of imagination he flies over 
the range, mile after mile, one hundred, two hun- 
dred, nearly two hundred and fifty of them, strung 
all the way, on skeleton steel towers, with heavy 
aluminum cables, and he sees the power .of the 
waterfall, the rush of the cascade, the dash of the 
confined mountain torrent transformed by man's 
genius and skill into electric energy, moving street- 
cars, charging automobiles, raising and lowering 
elevators laden with human freight, with bricks, 
mortar, concrete, steel and other building material, 
revolving electric fans, working sewing machines, 
grindstones, and turning a thousand and one variety 
of wheels all for the benefit, the profit, or the pleas- 
ure of mankind. 

Over in another direction he sees the water 
diverted into a lumber flume, which winds and 
curves, twists and squirms around the mountains' 

[10] 



shoulders, down, down, down, over passes, lifted on 
stilts over deep canyons and over level valleys, until 
the terminus Is reached In some town by the railway. 
He sees the lumber, cut from the trees of the giant 
forests,-— which he Is only just now beginning to take 
full cognizance of, — big, square timbers suitable for 
bridge-bullding or uprights between stories; thick, 
heavy planks; thin broad planks; planks and studs, 
joists and beams of every kind, guided Into the V 
shaped flume, and rapidly carried away on the bosom 
of the water. He sees it on its winding and almost 
silent course, until it reaches the terminus, where 
the pliant water, hitherto used as a carrier, now 
pours forth its vivifying flood for purposes of irriga- 
tion, while the lumber is hauled out of the flume, 
stacked up to dry, and then shipped by railway wher- 
ever it Is needed to aid in furthering the march of 
progress. 

But the fisherman sees in these mountain streams 
another kind of sight. His vision Imagines the 
golden trout, the rainbow trout, the silver trout, the 
cut-throats and the other finny creatures of dazzling 
beauty, that rise to the fly of the skillful angler. He 
gets his rod and reel, his flies and other dudeudiims, 
puts on his long-hipped rubber boots and starts 
forth. He makes his cast — but how shall I, an Igno- 
rant tyro, dare attempt to tell what and how he does, 
the excitement of the strike, the skilful handling of 
his catch and the final landing on the bank? 

And the hunter! He, too, sees visions. These 
peaks don't mean so much to him, as the gray-green 
slopes beneath; the woods, the forest, the dense 
chaparral. There may be a bear found, once In a 
while, on the heights, but his heart beats to the 
thought of deer. His taste runs to venison steak, 
broiled over a camp-fire and smothered In well-fried 
onions, or to stew, made to simmer until everything 
is as tender as scientific cooking can make it. 

The tree lover sees his joy in the unequaled wealth 

[11] 



of trees, and the botanist in the flowers, shrubs, 
mosses and ferns that he is assured must abound 
here, while the geologist sees the mysterious opera- 
tions of the world's birth slowly unfold before him, 
age by age, epoch by epoch, until he has recon- 
structed the range in imagination from Its first incep- 
tion in the bed of the primeval ocean, the slow 
deposition upon the parent rock of the disintegrated 
particles that have made sand-stone, lime-stone and 
the like, the steady and persistent uplift through the 
centuries, until it was no longer a submerged ridge, 
but a series of elevated plateaus and peaks. Then 
he visions the downfall of the snows of the glacial 
epoch. He sees these beds accumulate until they 
carry thousands, millions, billions of tons of the 
fleecy particles, welded together by the heat of the 
sun and their own attraction until they have formed 
sheets of ice thousands of feet thick, and moving 
with irresistible force and grinding power over these 
once water-smothered mountain peaks. Centuries 
rolled by, and the swing of the earth upon its axis 
drove away the glaciers, but left the records of their 
work. In the grinding of the domes and peaks, carv- 
ing out of the gullies, ravines, gorges, canyons, val- 
leys and lake beds. In which later, dainty, exquisite, 
tree-surrounded, pure-watered lakes were born. 

Then came fierce periods of earthquake and lava 
flow. Great craters were formed on some of the 
highest ridges and from them poured forth floods 
of andesite and diorlte, crowning broad and wide 
areas with their solid lava caps. When the storms 
of later centuries burst upon these mountains, many 
of the proudest peaks were humbled and brought 
low, others that had received these lava caps were 
able to withstand the fury of storm and decay. They 
refused to yield, and then saw their once high-tower- 
ing brothers gradually yield to the gnawing teeth of 
time, until they were far below them in height, 

[12] 



planed and smoothed, or split and fractured out of 
all semblance to their original majesty. 

Then came the beginning of our epoch, the age 
when life was possible. The king of the hell of cold 
had wreaked his will, with his glacier blanket, his 
fierce winds and hails and storms upon the region; 
had given way to the king of the hell of heat, who 
had belched forth his flaming floods to destroy it; but 
both had been subdued, and now the king of the 
world of life held the scepter. 

Trees sprang up on every hand, on the soil ground 
from the rocks by the restless glaciers and deposited 
in great lateral and terminal moraines, or washed 
down by later floods to fill ice-polished areas of more 
level surface. Insect life, reptilian life, bird life, 
animal life began to appear, and as the sun shone 
upon a world so peopled and made beautiful, man 
was tempted to appear. 

Then came California's prehistoric halcyon days, 
the days of aboriginal peace and plenty — full of 
peace because of its plenty, and all Nature seemed to 
smile and rejoice in gladness. 

Since then there have been many changes. The 
Spaniard came, the Mexican, the American; the 
aborigine has been thrust into the background, and 
for good or evil, the power of the white man is in 
the ascendency. He it is who has built the railway 
to aid him In his plans; he it is who has created 
Huntington Lake; he it is who converts its water- 
power into electric-power; he it Is who carries that 
power over the long miles to far-away Los Angeles. 
He is the modern miracle-worker and the mountains 
of the San Joaquin are become the scene of some of 
the greatest of them. 



[13] 



CHAPTER II 

WHERE LOS ANGELES' ELECTRICITY IS MADE 

FEW laymen have any conception of the ter- 
rific power of water, even in a small stream, 
when brought under man's control from a 
great height. Now and again he realizes the tremen- 
dous power of the waves of the ocean in a storm, 
when they beat upon some unprotected city, as at 
Galveston, before the sea-wall was built; he sees the 
devastating horror of a Johnstown flood, a cloud- 
burst, or a tidal wave; but these are all the manifes- 
tations of wild Nature, when unrestrained and un- 
controlled. Just as man has harnessed the lightning 
and made it obedient to his will, so has he now re- 
duced the wild power of the water-courses to subjec- 
tion. He builds dams and, so long as they stand the 
pressure, they keep the fluid under control. Then, 
in dark tubes, or through hewn tunnels, he conveys 
the water to where it pours over tiny wheels, which 
are thus made to revolve with wondrous speed, excite 
electric energy into life, and then send its subtle, 
though unseen, force hundreds of miles away over 
the hitherto trackless mountains. 

It is to one of the latest and greatest of these elec- 
tric power development plants — the Pacific Light & 
Power Co. — which supplies electricity to far-away 
Los Angeles, that we owe the present facilities for 
speedily reaching the heart of the mountains of the 
San Joaquin. 

Los Angeles is one of the marvel-cities of the 
world for rapid growth. In less than forty years it 
has jumped from a population of about 12,000 to 
[14] 




In the Forest near Huntington Lake Lodge, in the San Joaquin Sierras 




Leaving Huntington Lake Lodge for a Cam;)ing-()ut Trip in the 
San Joaquin Sierras 



over 500,000. Its electric car system has kept pace 
with the city's phenomenal bounds, and in addition, 
it has established the most complete and modern 
interurban electric system in the United States, if not 
in the world, sending its trains of magnificent red 
cars radiating in every direction, even to Redlands, 
Riverside and San Bernardino, sixty to seventy miles 
away. Besides this, its city streets and residences 
are electrically lighted, and thousands of electric ap- 
pliances and conveniences are in operation for the 
benefit and comfort of its citizens. Hence it will be 
seen that it was, necessarily, no small task to meet 
the growing needs of Los Angeles for electric power. 
When one company after another had exhausted its 
resources, Mr. H. E. Huntington, who had prac- 
tically acquired control of all the street railways, and 
was the father of the new interurban system, deter- 
mined to establish power plants in the San Joaquin 
Sierras. Stone & Webster, of Boston, were given 
the contract and ordered to speed the work. With 
their well-known organization operations were begun 
and so systematically urged that in less than two 
years from the time the order was received, sixty- 
seven miles of mountain railway were built; two in- 
clined cable railways were in operation, each rising 
2000 feet in 6000 feet of length; four concrete dams 
were erected, thus creating Huntington Lake, nearly 
five miles long by half a mile to a mile wide; two 
power-houses and a sub-station were built and 
equipped; five miles of 12-foot tunnel were bored 
through the solid granite of the mountains; over 
3000 skeleton steel towers were set over 240 miles 
of mountain and desert, the 50-foot-wide way for 
these also cleared of timber and brush for the whole 
length ; and upon the towers were stretched fiv^e mil- 
lion pounds of aluminum cable. This recital is a 
story of modern magic. To have built the power- 
houses alone, in the heart of New York, where all 
the materials were at hand, would have been regard- 

[15] 



ed as a great achievement fifty years ago. But to 
go into the heart of a rugged range of mountains, 
cut roads, build a railroad, transport supplies, and 
erect them there, in what seemed inaccessible sites, is 
nothing short of the miraculous. 

The San Joaquin & Eastern Railway, therefore, 
may truly be called an emergency railway. It was 
built and equipped (the main line of 56 miles) in 
157 days — five months. And only those who have 
ridden over it can grasp the remarkable fact, for it 
required the blasting of millions of tons of solid 
granite, and it rises at a far higher gradient than any 
other steam-propelled railway in the state, except 
small portions of the Mt. Tamalpais scenic railway. 
After the main S6 miles were built it was found nec- 
essary to add 1 1 miles for pure construction pur- 
poses. The equipment called for nine locomotives 
and 112 cars. 

The watershed that supplies Huntington Lake has 
its greatest elevation in Kaiser Ridge, from 9000 to 
nearly 11,000 feet above the sea. Its chief stream 
has long borne the mountaineer's name of Big Creek, 
which is one of the large affluents of the main stem 
of the San Joaquin River. At an elevation of 7000 
feet it flowed into a basin (now Huntington Lake), 
and then spilled over, in a series of cascades and 
waterfalls, into a precipitous canyon, dropping four 
thousand feet in six miles before it joined the San 
Joaquin. 

To make this basin a permanent reservoir required 
the erection of three of the concrete dams referred 
to. Each one is built on solid granite foundations 
and they are so constructed that fifty feet may be 
added to their height when it is needed to store more 
water for the development of more power. 

At the lake the water is diverted from its natural 

channel, through screens, into an intake tower, from 

which it enters a 12-foot tunnel three-quarters of a 

mile long. Connecting with the tunnel are two steel- 

[16] 



pipe conduits, which come down the mountain side, 
under the shadow of the Kerckhoff Dome, like giant 
black caterpillars. These two are then divided into 
four, each pipe 24 inches in diameter, and having a 
thickness of 13/16 inches, made of the finest steel 
known. Each of these pipes is able to resist a pres- 
sure of 900 pounds to the square inch, and is tested 
to double that capacity. These are known as the 
penstocks, and as the water is ready to be delivered 
to the water-wheel, each tube compresses until it is 
but 26 inches in diameter, with a nozzle of 6^. 
inches in diameter, through which the water dashes 
at the velocity of 350 feet per second. 

Few can realize the force with which the water, 
with this 2000 feet of head, compressed through 
these small nozzles, rushes forth. During the con- 
struction period, before the wheels were in position, 
each time the stream was turned on it cut down the 
opposite mountain side as though it were powdered 
sugar. The water-wheels are of the Pelton-Doble 
(San Francisco) type, though they were made by 
the Allis-Chalmers Co. Each wheel consists of nine- 
teen double-scoop buckets, attached to a nickel-steel 
disk, 97 inches in diameter. Each bucket is made of 
the finest cast steel and weighs 225 pounds; the 
bucket-weight of the nineteen, therefore, being 4275 
pounds. But this is as nothing compared to the re- 
sistant power of the revolving shaft upon which these 
buckets are affixed. The pressure approximates 
three hundred tons, such is the fearful power gener- 
ated by the upright column of water flowing from 
Huntington Lake. 

When the water is turned on, the jets dash across 
an open space of a few inches and then strike the 
buckets. There is no shock, however, at this impact, 
as the part of the bucket first touched is nearly par- 
allel to the jet. The wheel is forced around, the 
next bucket appears, and the next, and so on, in end- 
less round. In its short course over the surface of 

[17] 



the buckets the water Is brought almost to rest, and, 
without pressure and velocity, falls Inert from the 
wheel Into the tall-race. It Is In the bringing of the 
water to rest and allowing It to drop from the buckets 
that the genius of the inventors has been displayed. 
Were the water to revolve with the buckets they 
would soon become choked, as It were, and thus ma- 
terially retard the speed. As It Is, the experts tell us 
that fully 85 per cent of the potential energy is ac- 
tually developed and delivered to the electric excltors, 
or dynamos, with which the bucket-shaft Is linked. 

When run at full speed the shaft revolves 375 
times per minute, over sixty times a second, and if a 
brake were not applied it would continue to revolve 
for two hours after the power was shut off, such is 
the perfection of the mechanism. 

The two excltors are the nerve centers of the whole 
plant. Each Is 18 feet in diameter and 8 feet wide, 
and the pair develop practically 24,000 horse-power. 
As a tyro stands and watches the great dynamos re- 
volve, and realizes that here water energy is being 
transformed Into the subtler electrical energy to the 
extent of 17,500 kilowatts each. It almost staggers 
his imagination to be told by the expert that the 
mechanism is so delicate, so finely balanced, that the 
governor reveals to the trained eye the stopping and 
starting of every electric car on the streets of Los 
Angeles, 240 miles away! It Is evident, then, that 
the control of the pressure of the water must be ade- 
quately provided for. Each wheel unit has two gov- 
ernors, so that the maximum efficiency can be ob- 
tained from the unit by using one or both runners, 
according to the demand of the load. The size of 
the water jet Is regulated by a needle valve controlled 
by the governor, and excessive changes In the pipe- 
line pressures are prevented by by-pass openings back 
of the nozzles, also controlled by the governor. 

The power Is generated at 6600 volts, which is 
then passed into three transformers and raised to 
[18] 



150,000 volts. Each of these transformers stands 
eighteen feet high and is filled with 10,000 gallons of 
oil of a coohng and insulating quality, so as to de- 
stroy the tremendous heat generated in the trans- 
forming process. Each tank weighs 90 tons, and 
the oil Ts tested once a month to discover whether its 
resistant properties are impaired, and also to find out 
whether any moisture has crept in. If it is found 
below standard, or moist, it is taken out and thor- 
oughly filtered. 

The power is now under the control of the switch- 
man, and he sends a continuous flow of 150,000 volts 
over the aluminum transmission lines direct to Los 
Angeles, where, at the Eagle Rock sub-station step- 
down transformers, condensers, compensators and 
other controlling apparatus are installed. Received 
at 150,000 volts, it is delivered over the city lines at 
72,000 and 18,000 volts. This is the longest hne in 
existence and operates at the highest voltage ever 
used commercially, hence to the practical electrician 
is one of the most interesting plants in the world. The 
twin steel towers are erected on a right-of-way 150 
feet wide, cut as straight as the crow flies from the 
power-houses over mountains, valleys, desert and 
plain, and they carry six cables an inch in diameter. 
Without halt the subtle fluid leaps from the San Joa- 
quin mountains to Los Angeles, and so perfect was 
the planning that during the severe storms of 1914 
and 1916 the system stood the test without a break, 
giving continuous service, day and night, ever since 
its installation. 

Yet the story only begins here. When the water 
from Huntington Lake races down the penstock, op- 
erates the water-wheel, generates the electric power, 
drops inert into the tail-race, it has done only the 
first portion of its expected service. It now flows 
into the Cascada reservoir, created by the erection 
of Dam No. 4, 72 feet high and with a capacity suf- 
ficient to operate Power Plant No. 2, four miles fur- 

[19] 



ther down, for four hours. The respective elevations 
are 4820 feet at Cascada and 2953 feet at plant No. 
2. About 10 per cent added water flows into the 
reservoir from Pitman and Snowslide creeks and 
other smaller streams, and then, flowing through a 
tunnel 12 feet in diameter, cut out of the solid gran- 
ite of the mountain, 21,000 feet long, it flows to 
generate about the same amount of power at plant 
No. 2 as is produced at Cascada. Thus this one 
stream of water, twice used, generates about 170,000 
horse-power. 

Such, however, is the growing demand for electric 
power, that the completed plans of this system con- 
template the erection of two more generating sta- 
tions. No. 3 will be located near where Stevenson 
Creek drops into the San Joaquin, and about four 
miles beyond No. 2, reached through a granite tun- 
nel. Its water supply will be augmented by the full 
flow of the San Joaquin river, brought through a 
tunnel twelve miles long, and the drop will be 1400 
feet. Then a fourth plant will be erected further 
down, with, possibly, an equal capacity, so that when 
the entire system is installed it is not unreasonable to 
suppose that fully 350,000 horse-power will be de- 
veloped ready for transmission to Los Angeles or 
elsewhere, as may be required. 

The expenditures already made to date exceed the 
sum of twenty-five million dollars, and the rude esti- 
mates of the completed system, as outlined above, 
call for near eighty millions. Thus do men today 
play the game of life with millions, where a score of 
years ago they deemed they were doing large things 
with hundreds of thousands. 

The system was designed as the result of combin- 
ing the ideas of several engineers, notably the heads 
of the Pacific Light & Power Co., Messrs. H. A. 
Barre and Davis. The superintendent of the Big 
Creek power-houses is R. B. Lawton, to whose kind- 
ness I am indebted for the facts of this chapter. 
[20] 



CHAPTER III 

FROM FRESNO TO HUNTINGTON LAKE LODGE 

FOR the first eighteen miles the ride is on the 
Friant Branch of the Southern Pacific. In 
February, 1916, when the Snow Carnival 
was held, there had been a brief early hot spell in the 
San Joaquin Valley, a kind of Indian summer, where 
the temperature rose as high as 80 degrees. Then 
came days of fog, which flowed in during the night 
and did not lift until early afternoon, thus covering 
the whole valley with its cooling, though somewhat 
dreary, blanket. This fog followed us all the way 
from Fresno to El Prado, where change was made to 
the cars of the San Joaquin & Eastern Railway. This 
latter is the railway of 56 miles, constructed and 
equipped in 157 days, to further the establishment 
of the hydro-electric power-plants described in the 
preceding chapter. 

From this point we began the ascent of the foot- 
hills, dotted with live oaks, sycamores and cotton- 
woods, many of the former heavy with bunches of 
parasitic mistletoe. Soon the table-land region was 
reached, reminding one forcefully of the volcanic 
country so graphically described by Bret Harte in 
his Twins of Table Motintain. This is a vast stony 
level, upheaved far above the surrounding country — 
the valleys traversed by our train — and capped by a 
thick flow of solidified lava, which has prevented the 
wear and tear of the storms of the ages from cutting 
it down to the lower levels. The country having 
been fairly level when the lava outpour occurred, it 
now stands, parapetted and formidable, like a gi- 
gantic and time-worn level-topped castle built in 

[21] 



heroic days to house all the giant creatures of the 
world. Although hi actual altitude these tables of 
rock are far beneath the white peaks of snow of the 
higher Sierras, their peculiar configuration seems tor 
lift them up to the passionless region of the stars and 
make them much higher than they really are. 

The intervening valleys are fairly fertile and the 
foothills attractive with the wealth of blossoms 
springing up in the moist mould under the influence 
of the sunshine, for the" fog is now behind and below 
us, and the pure blue of the Sierran sky is shot 
through with the brilliant rays of the sun. For 
twenty-six miles we meander along until Auberry is 
reached, at an elevation of 2050 feet. 

Here we change engines, for from now on we 
must climb up steeper grades, making more curves 
and twists than are found in any other railway in 
the world. In some places, too, the grade is as high 
as 53^ per cent. The ordinary engine is not suitable 
for this kind of railroading, so the Shay engines, 
similar to those used to overcome the grades of Mt. 
Tamalpais, are used. These are different from the 
ordinary rod-and-piston-driven engines, in that the 
power is applied by cogs to each of the six wheels of 
the engine, hence, though they travel much slower, 
they can overcome grades, hauling heavy loads im- 
possible to the ordinary type of engine. 

From now on there were no straight stretches. We 
were on the curve practically every moment, winding 
In and out of the rudely scalloped segments of the 
mountain's shoulders. In and around, but ever up 
and up, we climbed, until a full view of the valley of 
the San Joaquin was presented. Its expansiveness 
and gentle upslope are its chief characteristics. It 
has none of the wild and picturesque, turbulent and 
chaotic ruggedness of the eastern slopes of the Sier- 
ras. Here the glaciers have ploughed their way 
down and over an easy slope, leaving their mud and 
debris deposits all the way down, to form fertile soil 
[22] 




Wintertime at the Pacific Light and Power Corporation Plant No. I, 




In the Sierra Planes on the Way from Cascada to Huntington Lake Lod; 



upon which giant pines, firs, tamaracks and spruces 
now abound. 

At Indian Mission we were greeted by Mono 
Indian men, women and children, about 300 of them 
residing here upon a small reserve, with a govern- 
ment school and a mission chapel. Most of the el- 
derly women are excellent basket-weavers, some of 
their work being of the finest character in shape, 
weave, color and striking design. 

On and up we curved, in greater or lesser scallops, 
until we reached the beautifully level Jose Basin, at 
Webstone. This is one of the small, fertile valleys 
of the Sierras, where grain, alfalfa and fruit grow in 
abundance, and of rare quality. In the springtime 
the whole area blossoms out into a million exquisite 
Sierran wild flowers. It is the beginning of a botan- 
ist's paradise, leading on into higher and richer fields 
beyond. 

Out again on the open mountain sides the train 
carried us until we were almost directly over the 
Grand Canyon of the San Joaquin. Here the river 
is narrowed into a wild and rugged gorge of majestic 
grandeur. Though it is 3200 feet below us, we can 
hear, when our engine comes to rest for a few min- 
utes at some watering tank, the sullen roar of its 
flow, as it rages at being so confined between these 
gigantic cliffs. For miles we have followed its more 
open course, a mere ribbon of delicate jade, laid out 
in the trough of an irregular shaped basin, the slopes 
all leading the eye down to this meandering band of 
color. Here and there white fringes line its edges, 
or daggers of white shoot parallel with its course. 
These are rapids, or cascades, over which the water 
madly, ragingly, or sullenly roars. 

For some time the glorious snow-capped peaks of 
the Sierras had been in view, and their grandeur and 
glory grew as we came nearer to them. The crests 
of the ridges on our right were covered with pines, 
swelling onward and upward in long mounting bil- 

[23] 



lows, until they broke upon the pure blue of the sky. 
Still higher, slopes and crests alike were covered with 
pines and firs of great girth and height. We had 
reached one of the timber treasures of the Sierra 
National Forest, where nearly two billion feet of 
lumber were recently sold. What wreckage and de- 
struction will take place here when the lumber camps 
are established and modern machinery and methods 
are set in motion to fell these arboreal monarchs of 
the Sierras, ignominiously drag them to the sawmills 
and there rip them into merchantable lumber ! 

At Dawn, 4562 feet of elevation, we enjoyed an 
even more extended panorama than any that before 
had been afforded us. The eye here sweeps over an 
expanse of upwards of three hundred miles. Towards 
the east the snowy Sierras stand in towering glory 
over the vast forest stretches and the half-clothed 
wilderness of the San Joaquin watershed, while in 
the far-away western horizon are to be seen the deep 
purple of the Coast range, beyond Avhich lies the Sun 
Down Sea of Balboa. 

On the extreme right of the panorama, looking 
eastward, lies the Canyon of Big Creek, down which 
waterfalls, cascades and rapids come dashing from 
the basins above. Their foaming whiteness even now 
attracts the eye. Here the end of the railway is 
reached at Cascada, where the first of the giant power 
stations is erected, and the monster dynamos create 
their wondrous flow of electricity. Locating the spot, 
and the dominant feature of the amphitheater, is the 
granite mass of Kerckhoff Dome, towering 1800 feet 
above the settlement, and leading the gaze to the 
level stretch above, in which, under the snowy crags 
of Kaiser Crest, Huntington Lake securely nestles in 
blue serenity. 

Three miles beyond Dawn, West Portal was 

reached. Here is the present western terminus of the 

power system; the end of the four-mile water tunnel. 

Below us was Power House No. 2, and as we jour- 

[24] 



neyed we caught glimpses of the great cable incline, 
and the steel tubes of the giant penstock which con- 
veys the water to the power-wheels. 

Another five miles brought us to Cascada, whose 
glorious waterfalls and cascades suggested the name 
it now bears. At Stevenson Creek, two miles west of 
Dawn, where we stopped for dinner, our ears and 
eyes were charmed by the waterfalls, cascades, pools 
and rapids of that dashing torrent, but now all the 
rapture of Pitman Creek is ours. What music Na- 
ture produces, and how soul-stirring it is when one 
grows to understand it! Like the masterly composi- 
tions of Beethoven, Mendelssohn or Wagner, one 
must learn to comprehend them; and then, ah, then, 
they sing of far-away western seas, of wooing sun- 
shine, of ravishing, intoxicating rushes into the upper 
air in the form of sea-mist, of wild storms blowing 
the mist-clouds from western seas over fertile Cali- 
fornia landscapes to the forbidding barriers of Sier- 
ra's highest crests. Then they sing of fierce storms, 
of dire cold, of icy blasts of winter, of the deluge of 
snow brought upon these towering peaks; of its melt- 
ing and massing until glacial beds were formed. 
Then, again, the song changes to one of joy at sun- 
shine and freedom. The sun's rays release the im- 
prisoned seadrops; they are free again; they flow in 
underground channels until they emerge into the 
open, and then they sing separately and melodiously, 
and jointly and harmoniously of their new-found 
freedom. Merrily they dash along, murmuring and 
babbling between the trees in their quieter flow, trum- 
peting, blaring, cymballing and drumming when they 
dash from ledge to ledge, or tootling, tinkling and 
piping as they rush to and fro among the boulders. 

While one's intellect is enthralled at the material 
and scientific marvels of the great power-house, let 
him not forget the natural and simple delights af- 
forded eye and ear at Pitman Creek. 

[25] 



Behind the power-house the cable Incline ascends 
to the level of Kerckhoff Dome, where the upper rail- 
road hauls supplies to the Lodge. The penstocks are 
also located here. But passengers are not carried on 
the incline; so, leaving the train, we take the stage or 
automobile in summer-time, or Sierra-planes in win- 
ter, and within an hour or so find ourselves in the 
hospitable shelter of Huntington Lake Lodge, where 
our real mountain pleasures are to begin. 



[26] 



CHAPTER IV 

HUNTINGTON LAKE LODGE IN SUMMER 

FROM the terminus of the San Joaquin & East- 
ern Railway at Cascada it is four miles, or 
thereabout, to the Lodge. The road is well 
engineered for stages and automobiles, but the strong 
and athletic mountain-lover will ride horseback or 
walk. In the former case he will soon sing, with 
Edwin Markham: 

I ride on the mountain tops, I ride; 
I have found mj' life and am satisfied. 

I am lifted elate — the skies expand : 

I ride with the voices of waterfalls! 

The road leads through an almost virgin forest, 
where flowers of a thousand varieties charm the eye, 
and mosses, ferns and liverworts lead the rider to 
dismount and gaze upon scenes of fairy-like beauty. 
Springs, cascades and waterfalls give rare life and 
touches of nature-glory to the scene, as well as insur- 
ing needful moisture to the flowers during the long 
summer months. Pines, spruces, cedars, with occa- 
sional quaking aspens, cottonwoods, sycamores, ma- 
dronas, and manzanita make a rich forest. Now and 
again richest vistas are afforded of long aisles of 
glorious trees, terminating in the vault of the blue 
horizon, or in the purple depths of the profound 
valleys to the west. 

Suddenly, through the trees, Huntington Lake ap- 
pears. Though a made lake, it occupies the site of 
an original Sierran lake, destroyed, mayhap, by earth- 

[27] 



quake shock ages ago, or its outlets carved away by 
long-forgotten glacial action. The three dams re- 
cently erected have restored the barriers and now the 
lake, four to five miles long and from a half to a 
mile wide, is another permanent asset of beauty to 
this region crowded with proofs that the Divine Cre- 
ator is a lover of beauty. Rising from its very mar- 
gin, towering trees point heavenward, rising in 
billowy waves to the shoulders of the highest peaks, 
where the timber-line ends and barren rock or snowy 
crowns begin. In the first chapter I have given a 
cursory survey of the extended mountain views ob- 
tainable from any one of a score salient points around 
the lake. 

To provide for the creature comforts of the exact- 
ing modern mountain traveler, Huntington Lake 
Lodge has been erected, about 500 feet away from 
the shore of the lake. It is a mountain structure, 
Swiss in style, redolent of pine and fir, spruce and 
tamarack, with an inviting hall in which a triumph 
of stone-chimney construction has been achieved. 
There is not a more delightful, cozy and comforta- 
ble lounging room in America than is this hall, 
winter or summer, when a genial crowd is gathered 
together within its hospitable walls. 

Even on summer nights an open fire is often grate- 
ful and comforting, and in the winter its joyous 
warmth is indispensable; but in every room an elec- 
tric heater is provided, which, on the mere twisting 
of a button, throws out its gratifying heat. With 
the purest air of earth to breathe, the purest water 
of God's own mountain distillation to drink, with 
ten thousand balsamic odors and scents lading the 
air and bringing delicious comfort to city-choked 
lungs, what wonder that new and beautiful color 
floods the cheeks, new springiness enters the walk, 
clearness the brain, freedom the lungs, oxygen the 
blood, and the whole being becomes radiant with 
new life, vim, vigor and energy? 
[28] 



To the hunter the whole region is one of allure- 
ment. Small and large game of all varieties abound. 
From the Lodge a score, two score, of trips may be 
made, some nearby and easy, others farther away 
and arduous, to the wilds of the higher and more 
remote parts of the mountains. Here, during the 
season, it is seldom that bear and deer may not be 
found. Foxes, lynxes and wildcats also abound, 
though, of course, the season for these Is the winter, 
when their fur is at its best. 

But it is particularly to the fisherman, the angler 
for mountain trout and other gamey fish, that the 
region makes its great appeal. Experts assert that 
it is the most highly favored fishing locality in the 
American world. This is but natural, on account 
of the continuous flow of ice-cold water from the 
thousands of springs, snowbanks and glaciers of the 
multitudinous peaks, whose snowy crowns and icy 
shoulder-capes are never melted. Brooks, streams, 
rivers and lakes abound in rainbow, black-spotted. 
Loch Levin, Eastern, and golden trout, together 
with black bass. Scores of glacial lakes are within 
easy reach of the Lodge, and the camper-out may 
take his outfit, travel to a fresh angling spot daily, 
and thus enjoy a full month of healthful delight, as 
well as revelry in his chosen sport. For, since the 
enlarged policy of the Department of the Interior, 
in relation to our national parks and forests, came 
into effect, miles and miles of trail have been built 
in the Sierra National Forest, giving to any ordi- 
narily healthful person easy access to every lake, 
stream, creek and river in the region. 

And to those who are "run down," overworked, 
weary of the endless round of modern business life, 
of society with its wearisome monotony and soul- 
harrowing frivolities, what could be more beneficial 
than to recuperate amid these glorious, majestic and 
inspiring scenes? Here one soon gains serenity, 
poise, strength and power. 

[29] 



CHAPTER V 

HUNTINGTON LAKE LODGE IN WINTER 

WINTER at the Lodge begins "several miles 
before you get there." On the occasion of 
the Commercial Club's excrusion snow was 
reached at Dawn, For a while the train was stopped 
in order that the party might disembark and indulge 
in a snow frolic. Many had never been in the snow 
before, hence it was a new and unique experience. 

At Cascada stages were taken for a mile or so, 
and then change was made to' the snow-boats, or 
Sierra planes, recently invented for the transporta- 
tion of this party. It was found that the snow was 
too soft and deep to allow the running of an ordi- 
nary sleigh. The runners sank in, and even eight 
horses could not pull the sleigh along. It was left, 
therefore, to the inventive genius of Leonard L. 
Ellis — popularly known as "Len" — to devise some 
means of getting this party to the Lodge. After sev- 
eral experiments he found that a strongly constructed 
sled, shaped similarly to a rowboat, the bottom (on 
the outside) covered with heavy zinc, and dragged 
by four, five or six horses, driven tandem, would an- 
swer the purpose. They were found to work admir- 
ably, though the horses and mules, if they left the 
beaten path, sank and floundered in the deep snow. 

Through the deep drifts, which were sometimes 
as deep as ten, fifteen, or even twenty feet, a tow- 
path was maintained open to the summit, and over 
this the party was taken in the Sierra planes, each 
plane accommodating eight persons. 

It must not be forgotten that the party came up 
on three successive days, some on Friday, others Sat- 
[30] 




One of the Dams at Huntington Lake, San Joaquin Sierras 




Holding the Fort Against All Comers, First Annual Ice and Snow 
Carnival, Huntington Lake 



urday, while the last arrivals were on Sunday. Each 
day, on reaching the summit in the Sierra planes, a 
terrific snow battle was imperative ere progress was 
allowed. A snow fortress was built, manned the 
first day by Mr. Munger and the winter residents of 
the Lodge and its environs. The invaders fought 
manfully, showing great aptitude in making and 
throwing snowballs, considering the fact that so few 
of them had ever done the like before. 

The second day Hayden Jones, the new com- 
mandant of Huntington Fort, determined to ambush 
the newly arriving party, led by Messrs. George 
Waterman and G. Gaylord Watson. As their planes 
came merrily along they were suddenly attacked. 
Showers of snowballs fell upon them as rapidly, if 
not as fiercely, as German shells were rained upon 
Verdun. Entirely surprised, they became ready vic- 
tims to the fort defenders, who, rushing upon them, 
overturned the planes and took everyone prisoner. 
But though captured, the new contingent had re- 
sourceful leaders. Rallying their mental powers 
from the suddenness of the shock, they signaled to 
their followers, who, falling upon their captors, ef- 
fected their escape, keeping up the while the most 
galling and destructive fire. Noses were hit, eyes 
bunged up, ears filled, necks loaded with the fleecy 
snow, and though the Hayden Jones forces fought 
with the desperation of despair, they were overcome 
by mere strength, as well as strategy, their fortress 
largely demolished, and their valiant soldiers placed 
hors dii combat, hors d'(ruvre, hoi-polloi, or Erin go 
hragh — mainly Erin go bragh, which, being inter- 
preted, means, put in the soup. 

Words utterly fail to describe the dire conflict of 
the following day. The two parties of the preceding 
days had patched up a truce and united forces 
against the hapless third-day group, who were sub- 
jected to such a rain, hail and storm of fire when 
they arrived as to make them feel as did the congre- 

[31] 



gation of the negro preacher, when he emphatically 
announced: "Bredderen, dere am but two roads — 
one to hell, and de odder to perdition." They im- 
mediately did as one of the preacher's auditors did, 
viz., took to de woods until the defenders were lulled 
into a sense of false security. Then, swooping down 
upon them, with valor in every heart and prowess 
in every arm, they made a clean sweep of outposts, 
fortress and defenders. 

These were the real beginnings of the frolics. 
Everyone had to take his, her, baptism of snow. For 
snow was everywhere. The Lake was buried deep in 
ten, twenty feet of snow. Everywhere was snow. 
As far as the eye could reach, to the summit of Kai- 
ser's Peak, and beyond, for fifty and more miles, 
looking northward and east, filling ravines and 
gulches, and dropping from the walls of canyons in 
white shroud-like drifts, fashioning the dividing 
ridges into the likenesses of monstrous graves, hid- 
ing the bases of giant pines, and completely covering 
young trees and larches; rimming with porcelain the 
bowl-like edges of the lake, and undulating in motion- 
less white billows to the edge of the distant hori- 
zon — so would Bret Harte have described the scene, 
quoting from his Gabriel Conroy. Snow actually cov- 
ered some of the lesser houses of the settlement, and 
rose to the very eaves, and higher, of the great ware- 
houses and stables. The Lodge was buried up to 
and above the second-story windows, and tunnels 
were dug to allow ingress and egress. The cottages 
were buried like dog kennels, and could be entered 
only through canyons tunneled in the snow. 

This was the scene and these the conditions that 
met the Fresno Commercial Club at Huntington 
Lake on the occasion of the First Winter Carnival 
and Sports. 



[32] 



CHAPTER VI 

THE WINTER CARNIVAL AT HUNTINGTON LAKE 

PILOTED through the snow tunnels or run- 
ways, the varnivalists reached the foyer of the 
Lodge. Here blazing fires welcomed them, 
and their eyes were delighted with the fir and spruce 
adornments of the walls, beams and open ceiling of 
the hall. The odors of the mountains were cham- 
bered in the rooms, and thus the very spirit of the 
High Sierras began immediately to flow into them. 
Barely did they give themselves time to wash and 
dress before they responded to thedinner call. There 
were no laggards at any meal during the stay of the 
party. Mountain air, in winter especially, is provoc- 
ative of excellently sharp appetites, and none called 
for high-balls, cock-tails, or the other "appetizers" 
deemed so necessary to stimulate the jaded palates 
of overfed city-dwellers in their regular habitats. 

No sooner was the meal ended than the fun began. 
The first order was to listen to the reading of the 
rules, which had been framed expressly to meet the 
requirements of this party. Some of these rules were 
as follows : 

This is a family party and it is expected that all avIU 
radiate good cheer, kindly feeling, friendliness and jollity. 
Wives are expected to speak to every husband except their 
own, and no husband is allowed to dance with his own wife. 

The management hereby gives notice that it positively 
refuses to be responsible for diamond-set garters, diamond- 
set nose rings and other precious stones of greater value than 
Two Million Dollars per guest. 

As none of our guests are less than multi-millionaires we 
request that all use as good grammar as possible. 

[33] 



All complaints must be made in person to the manage- 
ment at the hour of Two A. M. on the crest of Dam No. 1, 
two milfs away. It is possible that before the complaints 
are adjusted both management and guests will have visited 
several other dams in the neighborhood. 

It is considered bad taste at this hotel to flavor your cof- 
fee with Worcester Sauce. 

Guests are requested not to find fault with the coffee as 
we nev^er use any cheaper brand than Tarbuggle's, for which 
we pay seven cents a pound. 

It is respectfully requested by the management that guests 
do not leave their false teeth on the tables. Trouble often- 
times follows, owing to guests getting them mixed. 

Ask for everything you don't see and the management 
will see that you get it — in the neck. 

Unmarried gentlemen are earnestly cautioned to be care- 
ful against designing females. This is LEAP YEAR. 

No lady is allowed to kiss her husband under the mistle- 
toe. 

A class will be formed daily for personal instruction in 
mistletoe customs. It will meet in the hall each evening at 
candlelight. Gentlemen desirous of receiving instructions 
will kindly apply to the committee of education. Every 
lady guest is chairman of that committee. 

Lessons on the latest dances, the snowshoe trip, the ski 
flop, the coyote lope, the rattlesnake wiggle and the chucka- 
walla wallop can be obtained on application to the manage- 
ment. 

Guests who insist on stealing our red-hot stoves are re- 
spectfully requested to wear gloves. We will not be respon- 
sible for burns. 

Ladies with cold feet are requested to leave them by the 
open fire before they retire. 

Parties of guests who w^ish to discuss the war will leave 
daily at three A. M., one for Kaiser Crest, another for 
King George Peak, and the third for Hell Hole. Those who 
indulge in war talk in the hotel will immediately be banished 
to the latter place. 

The management respectfully requests that gentlemen 
who are in the habit of jawing their wives refrain from 
doing so after they have retired. The room partitions are 
thin. 

[34] 



The morning after our arrival I had the choice 
set before me of skiing, snow-shoeing or toboggan- 
ing. Twenty-five years before, I had gained some 
trifling proficiency in the use of skis, but never since 
had had opportunity to use them; so, Instinctively, I 
leaned to the long, slim strips of wood with turned- 
up toes and fastening straps in the center, and stood 
while an obliging friend kindly adjusted them to my 
feet. As soon as he gave the signal I felt peculiarly 
and unfortunately clumsy. I was all feet, and I felt 
it would be a great feat, indeed a pair of feet, to 
make my feet do the simplest thing, thus hampered 
by these seven-foot-long shoes. But I pushed out 
onto the level snow, and soon the easy motion came 
back to me. In snow-shoeing one lifts the foot as 
clear of the snow as possible, and puts It down again, 
as In ordinary walking; but in skiing the shoe Is slid 
along over the snow. Only in soft snow, or ascend- 
ing a slope, does one lift the ski from the surface. 
It sounds easy enough when an expert tells you to 
glide along over the snow. But snow Is not always 
the same, neither are all surfaces as level as they 
ought to be for a new beginner. After snow has 
been partially melted and then frozen It is a very 
different material from what It Is when soft and flaky. 
It Is like ice, and the skis slip over it with a speed 
and suddenness that are startling in the extreme — to 
a tyro. Then, too, when one comes to an irregularity 
in his pathway, as, for instance, where the snow has 
partially melted around the trunk of a tree, all roads 
seem to lead to that tree; for, do what one will, the 
skis perversely slide forward, sideways, backward, 
or all ways together, down the slope. It takes reso- 
lution, courage, skill and strength to overcome these 
perverse tendencies of the Inanimate skis. One 
knows they are Inanimate, and therefore ought to be 
perfectly under his control. He, the human, the 
mental being, reveling In the power of thought over 
mere material substance, ought to be able to go as he 

[35] 



wills, where he wills, how he wills, and when he wills. 
But, inanimate or not, the skis seem to be the sub- 
jects of demoniac possession. The most will-full just 
have to go the way the skis go. I've willed again 
and again, but all to no purpose. In plain, simple 
English, the skis just ran away with me, and I had 
to stand on them and submit. It was humiliating, of 
course, but evidently necessary to my training, my 
mental and moral discipline — possibly my physical 
discipline. I was told it would be a great strain upon 
my ankles, big toes, the calves and thighs, but, except 
on the toes — which I will explain later — I found the 
strain to be on my torso, but mainly on my mind. I 
was all the time wondering where I was going next, 
where I should fall, when, how, and how much it 
would hurt. For I fell again and again, sometimes 
forwards, even alighting on my elbow, face, and 
nose; oftener backwards, dropping in such sudden, 
unceremonious and forceful fashion that I felt as if 
a piledriver had suddenly reversed and had thrust 
my spinal column through the roof of my skull. 
Strain on my legs? Not a bit of it. At the end of 
the week I hadn't a lame muscle down there any- 
where, while my elbows were skinned, my face 
scraped, my nose peeled, my feelings hurt, my spine 
jarred from pole to pole, and my torso strained from 
center to circumference, and every muscle of back, 
chest and abdomen as lame as unusual exercise could 
make them. My big toes, too, either because they 
were big, extra big, or merely because they would 
not, could not, should not, ought not, might not, or 
did not bend completely over, seemed especially to 
attract the attention of those perverse skis. Every 
time I went down the difficulty was to get up. No 
matter how I fell — forward, backward, sideways, 
circularly, or spirally — there was but one way, so it 
seemed to me, that I could get up. That was: I, 
to roll ov^er until my skis were not penetrating the 
air in a heavenward direction; II, to get the flat of 
[36] 



them — the underside — down upon the snow. Now, 
to do this, when one was flat upon the snow, was a 
task that required judgment, ability, dexterity and a 
certain amount of unusual juggling with one's body, 
legs and feet, that, to say the least, didn't come easy. 
First one side of the body was brought under control, 
and one ski was properly placed. Then came the 
crux, the test, the final demonstration of ability. 
Bending forward on the firmly planted ski, one lifted 
the other half of his body Into line, and flipped, 
flapped, flopped, or just merely dropped his ski flat- 
side down on the snow, and by dint of careful and 
skillful balancing arose to his feet. It was during 
these falling, straightening over and getting-up proc- 
esses that one felt as If his feet were all big toes. The 
strain on them was tremendous, and though It is now 
over two weeks since the experience, my big toes yet 
ache and feel sore around the joints whenever they 
hear the word "skis." 

But falling and getting up again was part of the 
game. The air was pure, cold, delicious and invig- 
orating. One's lungs expanded In the exercise. The 
whole body, brain, mind and Imagination were exhila- 
rated, oxygenated, healthfully stimulated, and one's 
sense of beauty constantly quickened and aroused, de- 
lighted and satisfied by the snow-laden trees around. 
What did a few tumbles matter? Who cared? After 
each fall I got up again, sometimes after quite a little 
rest, sprawling on my back, feet wildly waving in air 
and looking strangely peculiar, or peculiarly strange, 
with those long and unfamiliar attachments to them. 

But It was when I tried to slide downhill that I 
awoke to the treacheries, the meannesses, the lurking 
dangers of Inanimate things. I saw a small knoll a 
little distance away. It was rounded, smooth, and of 
not too steep approach. From one side of It a gentle 
slope, apparently without pitfalls, led the eye down 
toward the lake. Here was an Ideal spot for the ed- 
ucation of my ski-sliding, or gliding, or tobogganing, 

[37] 



or sledding, or whatever they call it, experiences. 
With patience and care, caution and awkward bal- 
ancing I succeeded in scaling the height. It didn't 
look much, but it felt like a mountain while I ascend- 
ed. Cautiously — nay, I might almost say, stealthily — 
I worked my way around and looked down the slope, 
into the far-away level below. Dare I dare? Of 
course, I had to — I must! So, inching along until 
my weight was on the slope, down I went, gaining in 
speed and losing in confidence. Alas! twenty or 
thirty feet ahead was a double-track, transverse to 
the course I was now so recklessly pursuing. It 
looked like a wagon road through the snow. The 
woodchoppers had made it, dragging in a log on 
their sled. But its ruts were deep, and how was I 
to cross? I didn't have anything to say about it. My 
thinking was neither quick enough nor of any avail. 
The skis, the stiffer snow, the force of gravity, the 
forces of nature totally uncontrolled and uncontrol- 
able — as far as I was concerned — were recklessly 
hurling me toward death, destruction, or disaster. I 
didn't know which it would be. Long, long, long 
before all these things I have written could have 
been put upon paper, the shock came. Of course, I 
can laugh at it now, but then — then — ah ! it seemed 
terrible. I lost my balance on the first rut, was wildly 
gesticulating with all the arms and legs a man ought 
to have, before I struck the second, and then, rude 
and ribald spectators would undoubtedly have 
laughed themselves silly as I flopped, jerked, floun- 
dered into the deep snow. How thankful I am that 
it was deep, also soft! Those facts mitigated my 
grief, also the shock. 

But it took me several minutes to get up again, 
and more to decide that I was not dead, or at least 
seriously hurt. I would try It again. I did so. I 
fell less harshly this time. Once more. A little 
easier than before. Then I instinctively stooped 
over and leaned forward when I came to the ruts, 
[38] 







Skiing Down tlie Hillside of the Island, Huntington Lake 
Winter Carnival 




Snow Shoeing and Skiing Party going out to Inspiration Point from 
Huntington Lake Lodge 




Spectators at a Game of Tennis on Snow Shoes in Ten Feet of Snow 




A Xovel (Janip of Tennis, Snow Shoes for Rackets 
Pine Cones for Balls 



and, joyful triumph ! I went over without losing my 
balance, slid a quarter of a mile, and felt prouder 
than did Napoleon after he had crossed the Rubicon, 
the Alps, the Pyramids or whichever or whatever it 
was he did cross. 

I now began to feel reckless, and just about this 
time Mr. Clendenning, the snow-sports expert of 
Huntington Lodge, came along, and induced me to 
climb a real mountain on the other side of the lake. 
They tell me now it was only a goodly hill — but 
truth demands that I record my own impressions. 
To me it looked like a mountain; my legs and lungs 
said it was a mountain when I spiraled around it to 
reach its summit; and my eyes confirmed their judg- 
ment when they gazed upon that awfully long and 
steep slope which led the eye down to the flat and 
deeply snow-covered surface of the lake beneath. 

Would I dare venture to slide down there? It 
seemed like a rude courting of death ! But others 
had been seduced by Clendenning's dulcet tones, as 
well as myself, and one doesn't like to play the cow- 
ard before another's watching eyes. Rather dare 
and fall, and be laughed at, than sneak away, fall 
anyhow, and be sneered at, as well as laughed at. 

So "Here goes!" I cried, and down the slope I 
shot. Yes, shot is the proper word. I didn't glide 
far, though that was what I started out, and fully 
intended, to do. I think I know now how a shot 
feels when it leaves a gun. It goes out quickly, but 
easily, at first. Then as it feels the friction of the 
air on its surface it begins to roll, to tumble, to 
rock, and sway — going ahead rapidly all the while — 
until it strikes its billet. So it was with me. I 
glided, glid, or glode for quite a number of yards; 
then, as my speed increased, I swayed, swid, or 
swode, and finally fell, fill, or fode, and at once chaos 
reigned. First my head was in the lead, then my 
feet, with the skis wildly waving in air, then I went 
broadside, with the right hand in front, only to 

[39] 



roll over the next moment, and present my left side 
to the cold air, which I materially increased in tem- 
perature as I shot through it. 

This was "coming it a little rough," but others 
followed. Mr. Walcott rode his skis like a bird, 
and Mr. and Mrs. J. G. Waterman had fewer falls 
than I. So we kept at it, and others joined us, until 
our mountainside was alive with those who were 
speedily going down, slowly coming up, or rolling, 
tumbling or falling one way or the other, while 
the trees above shook off their snow in amazement 
and delight at the shouts of merriment, jollity, 
mock terror and affected fear which arose on every 
hand. 

Talk about unadulterated delight! Here we 
were. Most of us men and women from the city, 
unused to rude participation in Nature's winter de- 
lights on mountain heights, yet already in deep and 
profound sympathy with them, and enjoying them 
to the full. 

Snow-shoeing I did not enjoy as much as skiing, 
though many of the party preferred the Indians' 
method of going over the snow than that of the 
Norwegians. 

But everybody "went in for" the toboggan. 
There was scarcely a member of the party, old, 
young, middle-aged, frivolous, dignified, with whis- 
kers or without, who did not take the plunge down 
the slippery hillside. Two parallel courses had been 
prepared. A gang of men worked for hours, dig- 
ging the slides of the proper width, and smoothing 
down the snow to overcome the bumps and irregular- 
ities of the hillside. At the foot of the hill the course 
shot straight out onto the frozen snow-covered 
Huntington Lake, and the path was cut out as far 
as it was deemed any toboggan would be able to ride. 
A return path was beaten, or dug, on the side of 
each slide, with snow steps up the steepest part of 
the hill. A score or more of light, modern, tobog- 
[40] 




Snow Shoeing and Skiing Party at Inspiration I'oint 




The Start of one of the Toboggan Races, First Annual Ice and Snow 
Carnival, Huntington Lake Lodge 




Riding "Belly-Bumper" Down the Toboggan, First Ice and Snow 
Carnival, Huntington Lake Lodge 




The Start of the Standing Race Down the Toboggan, at Huntington 
Lake, in the Sierras of the San Joaquin 



gans were provided, and after a few prelirnlnary 
rides were taken by the workmen and others, it was 
declared they were duly ready for the crowd. 

The first evening after dinner was over, out we 
poured. To some, the sport brought back their days 
of childhood, and they were ready to go down sittmg, 
alone, with three or more "laced" together, or alone 
"belly-bumper." The men who made the slide were 
"on-to their job." The first dash was smooth, even, 
and without bumps. Then, as the speed increased 
the difficulties began. A slight bump was encoun- 
tered, which jumped one up in an unaccountable 
manner, and before one had settled down again, he 
struck a series of them, which made him think of 
the rise and fall of a boat on the waves at sea. But 
here it was the rider that rose and fell, and he knew 
it by the unceremonious way the sled underneath 
him had of rising and falling at the time he was fall- 
and rising. Jolts! jerks! bumps! — any amount of 
them. But this was not all. Sometimes the "bloom- 
in' " sled refused to be steered; perhaps it was that 
the steerer didn't understand his business. Anyhow 
it tried to run up the bank. If it succeeded over it 
went and the rider, or the crowd, were tumbled into 
the snow, with greater or lesser force, according to 
the rate of speed which had been attained. If, on 
the other hand, the steerer could right the sled, one 
merely swayed to and fro, enough almost to lose 
his balance — not quite — and the scraping of the 
sled on the side of the slide filled the air with snow, 
fiercely driven into his face. 

I soon came to the conclusion that for myself I 
would attempt no steering; I would let the sled go 
as it would. It was a good policy. It went without 
trouble every time, and, of course, I gained a great 
reputation for my transcendent skill as a toboggan- 
ist. (I've long contended that many reputations rest 
upon just as solid a foundation as this) . 

[41] 



The following morning everybody was out — some 
even before, but all after, breakfast. This was 
called an introduction frolic, in which every member 
of the party was introduced to the snow. The intro- 
duction in most part was accomplished by the women 
who, settling upon the persons to be introduced, 
pounced upon and buried them in the snow, battling 
them until they were assured the victim had really 
learned just what snow was. 

Then each went his own way, some to ski, others 
to toboggan, others to snow-shoe. But each evening, 
after dinner, saw the crowd at the double toboggan 
slide, and singles, doubles, trebles, and quadruples 
went down as fast as was possible. Half way down 
the slide a watchman stood with a lantern to give the 
signal when the course was clear, and a director at 
the starting-point alone was permitted to give the 
word Go ! Thus all possibility of accident was elimi- 
nated, that is as far as end-on collisions were con- 
cerned. But upsets, overturns, rollings in the snow 
— they were the joy of life ! No one felt really happy 
until he had had the sensation of being bumped up 
and down, and then rudely flung or rolled out of the 
sled into the deep snow. What fun it was ! What 
shoutings, yellings, laughings, and mock weepings at 
disaster. The women were just as ready as the men; 
sometimes more so, and they took their tumbles as 
philosophically, merrily, and uncomplainingly. 

Great fun was caused by a dog, belonging to Mr. 
D. J. Pease, one of the employees of the Power 
Company. This dog entered into the fun as heartily 
as anyone there. Mr. Pease's little daughter had 
provided the dog with a harness, and he pulled her 
sled to and fro with evident pleasure. Several times, 
however, the party started out when he was not har- 
nessed, and then, with his young mistress hanging on 
to his tail, thus providing traction, he bounded along 
as happy as any of the two-footed participants in the 

[42] 



carnival, radiantly and noisily proud to be in such 
excellent company. 

Early Sunday afternoon a snow-storm started and 
beginning with light flurries, it soon increased to 
great intensity though unaccompanied by winds. Re- 
clothing the giant pines and firs with great branch- 
fulls of the sheening white, the storm added great 
picturesqueness, and although the fall was heavy, the 
mildness of the temperature offered no hardship to 
even those unaccustomed to snow or the high alti- 
tude. 

Monday was the big day of the carnival, all of the 
excursionists assembling for the great frolic pro- 
gram. After a general snowball, the crowd dis- 
persed as usual, a large group, however, going out on 
skis and snow-shoes to Inspiration Point. This is an 
outlook point, close to the summit of the Kerckhoff 
Dome, at the head of the Cable Incline of 2000 feet 
descent to Cascada, and affording a wonderful out- 
look over Big Creek Basin and Amphitheater, the 
Grand Canyon of the San Joaquin, to the foothills 
and the far-away San Joaquin Valley, and even be- 
yond, to the purple mountains of the Coast Range. 

Then came ski races down the mountain slope of 
the Island, and much fun was caused by the misad- 
ventures of those who, like the author, often were 
unable to preserve their balance. 

Just before lunch a unique game was called. Four 
tennis "fiends" were determined to have a game. The 
tennis court was buried in eight feet of snow, and 
only some two feet of the fence was above the sur- 
face. Upon snowshoes and with snowshoes for 
racquets, the game was played, with sugar-pine cones 
for tennis balls. 

After lunch, however, came the final frolics at the 
toboggan slides. The heavy fall of snow during the 
night had improved the course, deepened the snow, 
and covered the hard, slippery surface of the past 

[43] 



days so that it did not seem quite as hard to fall upon. 
Speed and distance contests soon were in order, and 
one after another, the pairs of combatants shot down 
the slide, cheered by their respective fans. There 
were no speed cops to menace or measure with a limit, 
and with each slide the track became slicker, until the 
toboggans drove down the incline like the wind in a 
gale. 

At this point I felt myself urged to "start some- 
thing." Coming up after a particularly exciting ride, 
after listening to the brags of the youngsters, my 
fighting blood grew warm, perhaps hot, and I flung 
out a challenge to ride any youngster or oldster of the 
party, both for speed and distance. From Mr. 
Walter Berten Clausen's account of this contest, in 
the Fresno Republican, I extract a portion of the fol- 
lowing description : 

Dr. George Wharton James, a Sierra author-naturalist 
of fame, furnished much life to the party, and in the con- 
test he, despite his age — some three score years — challenged 
the excursionists for a speed contest on the slide. Elmer A. 
Anderson, one of the keenest tobogganists, volunteered. The 
race was on. 

Starter, judge and referee were appointed, and it is even 
believed that bets of peanuts, doughnuts, chewing gum and 
candy were placed on the event. Anyhow, there was an 
abundance of good-natured partisanship, and when the starter 
gave the signal "Go!" the spectators cheered and yelled 
heartily, Down the slide the contestants shot, the whiskers 
of Dr. James flowing behind him on each side. Almost im- 
mediately the contestants seemed to reach the base of the 
slide, and then, as they raced out over the level the partisans 
above cheered first one and then the other, while the sleds 
came to a stop, and it was seen the veteran of the Sierras had 
won by over a length. 

On their return to the starting point Dr. James was 
loudly cheered as victor, and Mr. Anderson equally so on 
account of the brave effort he had made. Then, suddenly, 
someone suggested that, because he had lost, Anderson should 
be rolled in the snow. There are alwa3'S willing hands at 

[44] 




After a Snow- Storm at Head of the Toboggan Slide, 
Huntington Lake Winter Sports 




Klmer A. Anderson Accepting (leorge Wharton James's Challenge ti 
Race down the Toboggan at Huntington Lake Winter Sports 



such a party for a little "rough-housing," so, in a twinkling, 
the defeated tobogganer was seized and thrown headlong 
into the soft snow, while a dozen ready assistants, male and 
female, pretty nearly buried and smothered him. But Ander- 
son is something of an athlete, as two or three of those who 
attacked him soon discovered. With skill and strength he 
seized them one after another, in spite of the general attack 
made upon him, and hurled them ten feet away. Thus the 
high revelry went on. 

Bye and bj'e one enthusiast challenged another to ride 
"bareback standing." It had seemed to some of the more 
timid that it was risky enough to go down the steep slide 
"belly bumper," or sitting, but to go standing "took away 
their breath." Yet a bold spirit accepted Mr. Walcott's 
challenge, and in a few moments, when all was ready, the 
signal was given to start. Walcott went off like a shot, 
standing upright, and riding his wooden steed like an experi- 
enced circus performer, but Mr. 's sled would not 

behave. For all the world like a bucking and unruly bronco 
it shot first to one side, and tried to climb the bank, then the 
other, making its rider perform such funny antics that every- 
one laughed until his sides ached, then, suddenly, Walcott, 
nearly at the bottom of the slide, and his competitor near the 
top were bucked off their sleds, thrown into the air and tum- 
bled over and over in the snow. 

Then someone dared Dr. James to ride "standing." The 
dare was accepted at once, and a challenge given for a com- 
petitive rider. One was immediately found and the two 
started off fairly well, but James had not gone far before he 
was thrown head-over-heels, while his competitor kept his 
feet, only to be thrown fiercely a little farther down the 
slide. James, however, recovered his sled, gained a quick 
seat hold, shot down the incline and across the level, thus 
winning the race. 

These were but a few of the exciting events and 
are recorded In detail to show how the old became 
young again In the glorious winter surroundings of 
Huntington Lake. 

And who shall tell of the fun In the social hall each 
evening, when the great open fire roared Itself red In 
the face of the giant throat of a chimney? Chestnut 

[45] 



roasting, corn popping, apple baking, singing and 
dancing obtained until a late hour. The author was 
called upon to tell folk-tales of the Indians who used 
to make their summer homes in these mountains, and 
his "How the Karoks Got Fire" will doubtless long 
be remembered. 

On Tuesday morning, February 22, the party re- 
turned home, without a single complaint, kick, 
grouch, or note of discontent. All felt satisfied with 
his, her, winter experiences, and assured that even 
these few days had given new health, strength and 
vigor. So, unanimously, the party agreed that, if 
possible, it would come again, in the summer to see 
this glorious region in its summer garb, and then 
the following winter to renew their enjoyments dur- 
ing this, the First Annual Winter Carnival at Hunt- 
ington Lake. 



[46] 



CHAPTER VII 

MOVIES IN THE SNOW 

THEATERS may come and theaters may go, 
In this our Twentieth Century, but the 
Movies go on for ever. Like the poor they 
are ever with us. And movies, too, are not always 
merely what they seem. In other words, they may 
appear to give a mere story, — a novel In action, — 
yet they may, at the same time, be a most effective 
piece of advertising of some region of country under 
such conditions that It Is desirous to set before the 
minds of the people. 

It was with this latter thought In view, that the 
movlng-plcture camera of Claude C. Laval, of 
Fresno, the skilful and talented artist, whose beau- 
tiful pictures Illustrate this book, accompanied the 
"Boosters" of the Fresno Commercial Club, on their 
first annual snow carnival at Huntington Lake. Mr. 
Laval was the writer of the scenario, the director, 
and, assisted by Oliver Kehrlein, the maker of the 
movies. The subject was The Ubiquitous Mother- 
in-Law, with the following cast of characters: 

Mother-in-law Miss Netta Sunderland 

Affinity Mr. B. M. Anderson 

Young Wife Miss Lorraine Laval 

Husband Mr. Ray Cooper 

Laborer on Hand Car Mr. Leon Perraud 

Some of the scenes were laid In Fresno, at Roed- 
Ing Park, but the snow and mountain scenes were 
taken along the line of the San Joaquin & Eastern 
R. R., and at the Sports of the Winter Carnival at 
Huntington Lake Lodge. 

[47] 



The making of the movies afforded as much fun, 
possibly more, to the Fresno party, as they will to 
the many thousands who, doubtless, will see them on 
the screen. Some of the scenes were uproariously 
absurd and ridiculous. The outline of the "plot" 
was somewhat as follows : 

A young couple is seen seated on a bench in a gar- 
den talking over plans for their trip to the Snow Car- 
nival at Huntington Lake. They have visions of 
what they expect to see and do. The young man 
shows his wife the proposed trip on map, tracing 
out the route with the R. R. tickets. He folds up 
the map and rises from the bench, when he discovers 
that his mother-in-law and her affinity have been spy- 
ing on them. He registers a determination that she 
shall not accompany them. They board the train. 
Just as the train disappears around a curve, mother- 
in-law and affinity appear on platform too late. 
They have missed the train. Navvy is seen pumping 
a hand-car. Mother-in-law rushes over, pushes 
laborer out of the way, and boards hand-car. Affin- 
ity stands flabergasted for a moment, then draws a 
"gun" from hip-pocket, proceeds to take an "injec- 
tion," when Immediately he becomes all alive and 
races after the hand-car. He jumps aboard, and the 
two go racing after the train. In the meantime the 
young people are enjoying the scenery. The hand- 
car catches up with train, and mother-in-law and her 
companion clambor over the rear platform. They 
are spied doing so by young people who make their 
escape by climbing to top of coach. The pursuers 
go through car, disturbing all the boosters, looking 
for the young people, but are unable to find them. 
Crossing to the forward coach the affinity's head Is 
bumped by the foot of the young husband, who is 
sitting on the roof with his feet hanging over. Re- 
joicing in their discovery the two scramble up on the 
roof and a hot argument ensues, which is settled by 
the son-in-law agreeing that mother-in-law mav go 
[48] 



along. Everything is now serene until Cascada is 
reached. Here the young man assists his wife from 
the train, and the couple are gazing around at the 
scenic wonders when mother-in-law grabs the son by 
the shoulder, and jerking him back, hands him all the 
suitcases, and taking the young wife by the arm, 
starts for the stage. This action is not made more 
agreeable by the affinity who "kids" the son-in-law, 
as they follow ! 

Now the scenes of the Snow Carnival are shown, 
the party indulging in skiing, snowshoeing, toboggan- 
ing, etc. Suddenly the mother-in-law and her affinity 
appear at the top of the slide, accompanied by the 
young couple. The young man assists his wife onto 
the sled and is taking his place behind her, when 
mother-in-law's attention is drawn to them by the 
affinity. She grabs the son-in-law, pushes him off in 
the snow and takes his place, the affinity starting them 
down the hill and jumping aboard, leaving the young 
man at the top in a rage. On their return, the hus- 
band starts in to browbeat his young wife about 
mother-in-law butting in all the time. In the mean- 
while mother-in-law insists she is going to take a ride 
by herself. Affinity agrees, peels off his coat, and 
gives the sled a start. In turning around to wave 
goodbye to her affinity, mother-in-law's fingers be- 
come entangled in a loose thread of the jersey. The 
sled having started, the jersey rapidly unravels, while 
the young people look on and laugh at the predica- 
ment of the affinity, who, standing there admiring his 
lady-love, does not realize what is happening until he 
discovers the young people convulsed in laughter. 
Then, looking down, and seeing his jersey disappear- 



*WhiIe many members of the party saw the taking of this por- 
tion of the scene, few were aware how this "trick" is done. To 
"movie" artists it is a common event. To produce the desired ef- 
fect upon the screen the films, showing the unraveling, are merely 
reversed, — run the wrong way on — and the trick is done, the mar- 
velous happens, the sled comes up the hill, and the yarn reknits 
itself. 

[49] 



ing, he immediately grasps the yarn and begins pull- 
ing the sled back up the slide, his jersey reknltting up 
all the while.* In the meantime the young man has 
an idea to get even, so taking a shovel and accompa- 
nied by the young wife, they proceed to the foot of 
the slide and dig a pitfall in the snow. At the same 
time mother-in-law and her affinity have an argument 
at the top of the slide, which is finally settled. She 
proceeds to take another ride, her sled, of course, 
dashing into the pit dug by the young people who are 
hidden close by looking on. The affinity, at the top 
of the slide, is horrified at his darling's disappear- 
ance, and proceeds to run pell-mell down the slide to 
her assistance and digs her out of the snow. She, 
in her anger, believing her accident was due to his 
carelessness, pushes him into the pit. The laughter 
of the young people draws her attention to them, 
and it dawns upon her that they are guilty ones. Re- 
lenting towards her lover, she goes to the pit, drags 
him out and they proceed out of the scene arm in 
arm, with the young people following, poking fun 
at them. A little later they appear in front of the 
snow fortress. As no one is in sight, love-making is 
in order. The young people approach unseen 
mimicking them, when, all of a sudden, heads appear 
above the fort, look and behold! the boosters have 
been watching them. A chase ensues, the four people 
finally finding refuge behind a pile of snow near a 
cabin. Here they wait awhile; then they look out 
to see If their tormentors are still after them. Find- 
ing the coast clear, they congratulate each other on 
their escape, and everybody is happy. 

Even to the staider members of the party, the 
rude horse-play of this "plot," was a source of con- 
siderable fun. It gave them a glance "behind the 
scenes," and at the same time revealed how a fool- 
ish thread of a story might be used to show to thou- 
sands of people the delights of the winter in the 
fascinating region of Huntington Lake Lodge, 
[50] 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



017 135 061 P# 



